I love Marianne Moore's "The Fish", because it reminds me of when I went snorkeling almost a decade ago. She uses beautiful imagery and compares the sea to jewels; that image of her experience seems to glint and shine in the sunlight. However, the end of the poem shows not the ocean's beauty, but the abuse we humans inflict on the sea. It's terrible to think that we ruin things that are so beautiful. All those marks and grooves seem to give it character, whatever "it" may symbolize.
I've read another poem by Marianne Moore called "I May, I Might, I Must", and "The Fish" doesn't seem to have the same impact as "I May...", because that poem has helped me adjust to college life. It disappointed me a little bit; I wish she had more of her strong voice in this one.
Hey Caroline, I really enjoyed your post. Marianne Moore is a poet I've read before and enjoyed, and I have always found her name rather fitting.
ReplyDeleteUnfortunantely I am unable to sign on... without the syllabus I cannot the password, and the paper was lost in my car in a folder when I had my accident.
So this is my post also, I hope you do not mind or find it rude.
The poem is by A.A. Milne,
"Binker (what I call him) is a secret of my own,
And Binker is the reason why I never feel alone.
Playing in the nursery, sitting on the stair,
Whatever I am busy at, Binker will be there.
Oh, Daddy is clever, he's a clever sort of man,
And Mummy is the best since the world began,
And Nanny is Nanny, and I call her Nan...
But they can't See Binker.
Binker's always talking, 'cos I'm teaching him to speak
He sometimes likes to do it in a funny sort of squeak,
And he sometimes likes to do it in a hoodling sort of roar...
And I have to do it for him 'cos his throat is rather sore.
Oh, Daddy is clever, he's a clever sort of man,
And Mummy knows all that anybody can,
And Nanny is Nanny, and I call her Nan...
But they don't Know Binker.
Binker's brave as lions when we're running in the park;
Binker's brave as tigers when we're lying in the dark;
Binker's brave as elephants. He never, never cries...
Except (like other people) when the soap gets in his eyes.
Oh, Daddy is Daddy, he's a Daddy sort of man,
And Mummy is as Mummy as anybody can,
And Nanny is Nanny, and I call her Nan...
But they're not Like Binker.
Binker isn't greedy, but he does like things to eat,
So I have to say to people when they're giving me a sweet,
"Oh, Binker wants a chocolate, so could you give me two?"
And then I eat it for him, 'cos his teeth are rather new.
Well, I'm very fond of Daddy, but he hasn't time to play,
And I'm very fond of Mummy, but she sometimes goes away,
And I'm often cross with Nanny when she wants to brush my hair...
But Binker's always Binker, and is certain to be there."
I have always loved this poem because of the obvious connotations it has toward theology.
In fact, the first time I came across it was in Richard Dawkins' riveting book on atheism.
Milne is known much more famously for Winnie the Poo, but like Dr. Seuss one should realize their writings, while focused on children, were metaphorical and representative of a much more expansive world, and much deeper outlook.
Think deeply, how much different from God, is binker?